Part 25 (1/2)

Rhalia popped back into the room, saw what he was doing, and sighed good-naturedly.

”I just can't keep you from going where you're not supposed to, can I?” she said.

Alin gestured to the door. ”But I can open it! Look!”

”Of course you can,” she said. ”The doors aren't locked.”

”Oh.”

Rhalia floated over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders companionably. ”Listen. I don't try and keep you from these districts because you can't enter, but because you shouldn't enter. It's not that we require you to show a particular virtue before we allow you to use a power. It's more like you need a particular virtue to handle that power. The gold power is for battle, for instance, and we wouldn't want anyone in battle who wasn't brave. Likewise, patient people make good defenders. Do you see?”

It seemed like a pretty weak thread to Alin. ”What happens if I don't have the virtue? What if I walked through this door right now?”

”That particular door? The gnomes who live on the other side would likely beat you and toss you back out,” Rhalia said. ”But in general, we don't stop people from taking power they think they've earned. We're trying to help you make the right choices, not make them for you. But, eventually, if you take too much power too quickly...you stop controlling the power, and it starts controlling you.”

Rhalia's voice got suddenly distant and more serious at the end, as though she were reliving a particularly unpleasant memory.

”What does that mean?” Alin asked.

”You become an Incarnation,” Rhalia said, still distant. ”Little more than an embodiment of your Territory's nature and power.”

”That doesn't sound too bad,” Alin responded. ”The embodiment of patience and mercy and all that.”

Rhalia raised a hand to her forehead. ”We didn't think so either, once,” she said. Then she shook herself and smiled at him. ”Anyway, you're gathering powers pretty quickly yourself. Especially if I decide to grant you permanent access to the rose, which I have not decided yet. You have to be careful.”

Alin nodded. He certainly had no wish to risk going insane, and if Rhalia thought the danger was so great, he was sure she knew what she was talking about.

As they walked into the Rose District, Alin nodded to the small white door.

”What about that one?” Alin asked. ”I've heard you mention the other colors, but I've never heard you talk about the white.”

Rhalia laughed. ”Still curious, are you? The white's something of a special case. It is linked to Ragnarus, the Crimson Vault. Just as Ragnarus promotes sacrifice, the White District requires you to demonstrate the attendant virtue. It's the opposite of Ragnarus, the one virtue required to use the Vault's weapons with wisdom and discipline.”

”What's that?” Alin asked.

”Selflessness,” she responded. ”Self-sacrifice. Ragnarus Travelers have a tendency to pay the prices for their weapons using other people; if a weapon activates using pain, for instance, why not torture one of your enemies until your weapon drinks its fill? Why not bleed a peasant dry to use a sword that drinks blood?”

”Or kill your citizens to keep your Tree growing,” Alin said.

”Precisely.”

”I'm not sure what good the white power would do, though,” Alin noted. ”Especially not if you have to sacrifice yourself to use it.”

Rhalia shrugged. ”No, it's not like that. Self-sacrifice is more often the practice of thinking of others first. You don't have to necessarily give up your life; in the old days, some of the greatest masters of the white sacrificed their time, their money, or their freedom for others. Selflessness is basically the keystone to all of our virtues here.”

Alin looked at the white door for a moment longer before he headed into the Rose District, his questions*for now*answered.

Rhalia could say what she wanted, but Alin thought he would save the white door for last.

Simon said nothing, just moved his gaze from Leah to the King and back. Part of his mind had frozen from shock, but the part that still worked noted that this actually explained quite a bit.

The King's blue eye was cold. ”I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on,” he said. ”Before I leave you to discuss...whatever you must discuss, you should hear my words. You are a wanted criminal in my lands.”

Simon jerked his head back to look King Zakareth in the face. He was less surprised by the announcement than he was by the fact that the King himself knew what he had done.

Zakareth misinterpreted his reaction. ”Surprised? You shouldn't be. You killed fifty-three of my subjects that I am aware of. In another situation, I would have you bound and executed.”

If anyone makes a move, I will warn you, Angeline sent. Be prepared to run.

For once, Simon was glad that he was carrying a serious and straightforward doll instead of one p.r.o.ne to making jokes.

”I am prepared to grant you mercy, however,” the King went on. His eyes, blazing red and ice-cold blue, looked anything but merciful. ”Serve me in protecting my realm, and I will commute your sentence until such a time as we are prepared to judge you for your actions. If you wish leniency, I suggest you dedicate your life to the service of my realm.”

He stared at Simon with those disconcerting eyes, obviously expecting a response.

”Yes, Your Highness,” Simon said at last, dropping his gaze to the ground. He had considered any number of other reactions, but what else was one supposed to say to the king?

King Zakareth turned as though the matter was fully dealt with, not acknowledging Simon's response in anyway. He walked away, already deep in conversation with his son. The Heir turned and regarded Simon once before he walked off, his expression thoughtful, but he ultimately said nothing. Denner and the other Travelers behind him were wrapped up in their own conversation, one that sounded to Simon like strategic planning.

As everyone else pulled away, Leah stayed behind. For a handful of seconds, she said nothing.

”So...” Simon said at last. ”You're a princess.”

”No. I'm an Heiress. n.o.body says 'princess' anymore except in children's tales.” She sounded nervous, more than anything, which meant that she was trying to divert his attention.

Simon refused to be put off. ”So,” he said. ”You're an Heiress.”

”I'm King Zakareth's fourth child, yes,” Leah said loftily. She was looking at him, but her face was still blank. She was keeping her mask on, so Simon kept his face still as well. He couldn't keep a bit of anger from leaking into his voice, though.

”What does that mean?” he demanded. ”Does that mean you're fourth in line for the throne?”

To her credit, Leah hesitated a moment before saying, ”Second, actually. It's a bit more complicated than that, but my two older sisters were...disqualified from the succession. One of them is insane, and the other was recently exiled to Lirial. And my younger brother is dead. It's just me and my older brother left, now.”

Second. Second in line for the throne of Damasca.

Simon tried to force words out past the emotion in his throat, tried to give voice to everything he was thinking, but all that came out was, ”I...we rescued you.”

Leah looked past him, but her mask stayed on. ”I was never in any danger from Malachi,” she said.

A horrible realization dawned on Simon. ”It was you. You were the reason that the sacrifice came to Myria. You're why all those people are dead.”

Depending on her answer, Simon was quite prepared to summon Azura and cut her down in the street, even if he would not survive her long.

Quickly she said, ”No! No, I had no idea Malachi would call the sacrifice in Myria. That's the first time he's ever taken all nine sacrifices from one village, after all. When I found out he had done it, I was furious.”

Simon wasn't sure that made her deception any better, but he found his violent fury fading. Just a bit. But something still didn't make sense.

”Why were you in the village at all?” he asked. ”Maker, you could have lived your whole life in a palace. You probably grew up there!”